Forever and a Day
by Cuban Sombrero Gal
Summary: The love affair of Remus and Tonks was always a tumultuous one, but some moments stuck out more than others. Follow them through the seasons of their last year, and find out exactly what made their love so special.
1. Blinding Light & the Sound of the Ocean

**Forever and a Day**

_Blinding Light and the Sound of the Ocean_

They get married in late spring, but it's the honeymoon that really means everything to Tonks. This wedding is just for show, she thinks, to appease Molly and her mother and everyone else who seems to think that this is just an extension of their favourite Mills and Boon or Muggle soap opera: they are not Remus and Tonks, they are a dress clad, non-stumbling, non-swearing, non-appearance changing woman and her smartly dressed, clean-shaven husband.

"Do you, Nymphadora, take Remus John Lupin to be your lawfully wedded husband?"  
She bites back a _don't call me Nymphadora – _it's her wedding day and her mouth will have a _much _better use than for arguing with her appalled mother – and mumbles, "I do."

It's official, and scary, and wholeheartedly liberating, but mostly, it's official. Tonks has always believed that she doesn't need a man to complete her, and here she is, bound to Remus until death do them part. The first part doesn't bother her; the death part, she's not so keen on.

"Congratulations, Tonks." Fred and George – she can never tell the difference - bestow a bundle of flowers upon her, red roses with drooping petals that remind her of unshed tears, thick and bright like blood.

"Thanks."

She buried then by a swarm of guests, Remus' parents shake her hand and kiss her cheeks and comment on her long brown tresses; they're as dull as murky river water and as heavy on her back as if they were waterlogged. She bites her lip again, tries not to cry out in pain and refrains from asking _so your eyesight is good enough to make out my hair then? _

She loves Remus' mum and dad, they're the doting grandparents she never had – she shudders at that thought, because incest is just plain wrong, no matter what her mother's family believed in the sick twisted caves they called their minds, and she does _not _want to be Remus' daughter _at all. _

Come to think of it, she loves everyone at this wedding, her family, her friends, the Order – even if Moody's completely creeping out Becky, her Muggle friend she met at the grocery store after an emergency tampon buying session in Muggle London, by wiggling his magic eye and muttering "constant vigilance" at the sight of Bill and Fleur sneaking kisses behind the big oak tree in garden.

Tonks loves everyone at this wedding, but she loves Remus, her _husband, _the most – even if she's still getting used to the weight of the ring on her finger as she shakes hands and waves off compliments about how stunning she looks in a dress. And yet, here she is, on this perfect spring day, wiping away blushes caused by the aforementioned compliments and making sure everyone has enough punch; _where is Molly, anyway? _

She grabs Remus' hand about five minutes after the cake is cut, and asks him to leave through a mouthful of chocolate and pistachio nuts, words flying from her mouth like frantic curses.

"Fine," he responds, "just let Kingsley make his speech."

"Okay."

They nestle together under the shade of the oak tree for a few minutes – Bill and Fleur have long since disappeared into the house amidst a spell of unbuttoned clothing, and she laughs at the antics of the soon to be married couple, because she and Remus were like this a few weeks ago. Remus places chaste kisses on her cheeks and throat, and his lips feel like sandpaper as they scrape against her skin. She falls against him and they fall against the tree in turn, a tangled mess of limbs and emotions and fragile hearts charged with the pure energy of love.

"Thank you," Remus says simply, "thank you."

"For what?"  
"For everything."

Tonks knows exactly what he's talking about – this war has cut him up more than anything, and he will always wear the scars, both physical and emotional (though she finds them sexy, and nothing gives her greater pleasure than tracing the knotted, bulging ropes that run down his back from some curse or other during the night) – but she can't leave him without an admission of her own.

"Thank you, too."

"For what?" he echoes, and they both laugh, neither of them daring to glance at their watches, because this moment is perfect, and Kingsley's slurred, drunken speech about love and happiness in a time of war and whether or not Moody really hit on his protégée will only reinforce everything that sitting here is already telling them: they love each other.

"For teaching me that there's more to life than mindless drinking and a fridge full of week old Chinese takeout delivered by your boyfriend when he forgot to purchase those theatre tickets you wanted so much."

"Point taken – so it's got nothing to do with the fact that you love me then?"

"Of course not… that's a mere technicality."

Remus and Tonks both laugh harder than necessary; it's either marriage bringing out the sense of humour in them or the sense of humour that brought them together in the first place arising again in the face of marriage. Everything seems funnier now, feels fresher, and lasts longer.

Tonks turns around, listening for the feint tones of Kingsley's speech – she's seen his drafts laying around Grimmauld Place, his neat block printing hidden beneath layer upon layer of scribbles as he sought for the right word to describe something that didn't really need an explanation at all. She opens her mouth to ask Remus what he thinks of the line "more mischief than Fred and George," but her question is cut short by a sharp pain as a leaf smacks her in the ear.

Soon the air is a flurry of leaves and grass and mud and laughter and everything rustles in the wind as they collapse a million times over – she doubles over with laughter, wondering if Remus understands the Heimlich Manouevre because she'd love the kiss of life right now.

After what – ten minutes? Fifteen minutes? A hour? Maybe two? – they emerge from the back of the garden, with disheveled hair and clothing and the whistles of not only the Weasley Twins but Becky and Hestia in their ears. Everything rushes by after that in whirlwind of speeches and more laughter and champagne that bubbles like a hot spring, and then, they're _free. _

And that's where the fun begins.

It's not a typical honeymoon – stupid bloody Voldemort and his Death Eaters determined that long before Remus even worked up the courage to pop the question – but they have fun anyway.

Remus and Tonks wake every morning to blinding light and the sound of the ocean and Muggles going about their everyday lives like people who've never heard of war – which, Tonks reflects, they haven't. It shines in their eyes and on their sleep-deprived faces – after all, they _are _a newly married couple, so what do people expect, people with the sexual prowess of _Dumbledore? - _and it dances along the windowpane as they cook their breakfast the Muggle way and devour it with steaming mugs of coffee and kisses that aren't hurried in case someone comes around the corner.

They spend the days wandering the streets of Dorset like tourists, and wondering if they'll ever get this sort of normalcy in London, where the streets are crowded and Diagon Alley is boarded up and there's always people needing guarding, helping, killing. Here, the sun is shining and it's a beautiful day and Tonks feels like a goddess, like Aphrodite or Venus – and no, she _does not care _that they are one and the same – as Remus kisses longer than is necessary behind dingy pubs selling stale beer and the local convenience story as they juggle Muggle money and try to figure out how many pound coins they need to buy a carton of milk for their hourly caffeine fix.

They sit in the park for hours and _talk, _talk the way they can't at home because Molly hates Tonks for obvious reasons, while Moody's not the biggest fan of Remus – basically, he thinks that Remus should dedicate more time to the Order and less to his own personal pleasure. She laughs at the memory of Remus replying to _that _with a chaste wink and saying "well least I have a girlfriend, you bloody old codger," in a way that only Sirius had ever perfected.

"So, have you ever had another girlfriend?" Tonks asks curiously one afternoon during a picnic in the park, taking another ham and tomato sauce sandwich from the basket and popping it hurriedly into her mouth. The sauce leaks all over her favourite Weird Sisters T-Shirt (thankfully the picture doesn't move because she doesn't feel like explaining to unsuspecting Muggles who know nothing of magic beyond card tricks), and quickly scoops it into her mouth with a deft finger.

"Who says we don't know about fine cuisine?" Remus asks, and then flinches as Tonks tickles him gently and demands that he answer the question.

"I dated Lily Evans in my third year," he says finally, leaning back against the tree, its coarse bark scraping his back through the thin cotton of his shirt.

"_You _dated Lily Evans? And you still have your _ahem_?"

"I'm sure a nice young girl such as yourself can use the correct anatomical term, but yes to both."

Remus plays idly with a flower rooted into the ground beside him; the whole park is in bloom, and it's awash with colour as plants of every colour and description grow side by side, just like he wishes the world could be sometimes. Tonks watches him, trying to wrestle with words such as _husband _and _lover _that don't want to reconcile in her mind, even after a week of sweet love making and just being themselves. She loves him, and yet – and yet, right now they don't feel like husband and wife, they feel like Remus and Tonks, and she thinks it's impossible for her heart to get any fuller than this.

She's pleased that their marriage is legal, that any kids – oh Merlin, is she thinking of that _already _­– they have will share their last name with both their parents, but she's also realizing that they while they never needed this marriage, they _definitely_ needed this honeymoon.

"Really?" Tonks is utterly gobsmacked.

"In my third year," Remus elaborates, still running the flower between his fingers as he talks. "It was never anything serious, because Lily had the biggest crush on Snape and James teased us mercilessly."

"Snape?" Eloquence is a thing of the past, something that flew by the window a few years back as she splutters one-word questions that might be rhetorical and are certainly pointless. Remus nods again, looking more solemn than Tonks has seen him in a while, as though this whole business with Sir Greasy is something important to their fate.

"They were best friends for years," he says. "James hated it from day one, mostly because Lily shunned him on the Hogwarts Express for Severus. He loved her forever – I don't think she knew that, and neither did James, because he was too arrogant to believe that anyone but he was worthy of Lily."

"I can't believe… _Snape, _the bastard, having an actual crush. Shit, it almost makes him seem human."

"Yeah."

They lapse into silence after that, each of them mulling over the difference between what Snape got and what they're still living, every day now. It's comfortable between them – after so many nights of falling asleep to the simple sounds of each other breathing, a lack of speech doesn't kill them, it only makes them stronger.

After what seems like forever, mainly because her own thoughts are screwed by what she's just learnt about Snape and she's hungry and Remus has polished off the last of the pasta salad and the cupcakes too, Tonks hears music drifting towards her ears. It's not The Weird Sisters, or anyone else remotely like her favourite feminist rock bands, but she can't resist entwining Remus' hands in hers and dragging him to his feet.

The music is coming from a Muggle instrumental band, practicing by the lake – Tonks laughs at the indignant ducks who cannot even be lured back by stale bread and the even tastier promise of young childrens' fingers – and she begins to spin Remus around and around, resting her head on his shoulder, until they're both spinning under the shimmering spring sun with their minds and their hopes and their dreams in the clouds and their feet in the fresh green grass below.

* * *

**As promised, I'm doing a lot of writing, because I finally have the time _and _the inspiration. ;) Anyway, this was written for the Seasons Challenge at Mt Olympia (the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum), which I highly recommend for anyone suffering writer's block or just looking for a challenge in general. The challenges are brilliant and, more importantly, the people are awesome. This challenge involved writing a chapter for each season using the prompts (below), so there shall be three more parts. I know this is a bit rambly and weird, but that's exactly how Tonks sounds in my head, so hopefully it works for you, and whether it does or doesn't, please leave a review.  
**

**Spring Prompts: **bloom, flower(s), sounds, rustle, light, green


	2. Yellow Bikinis & Culinary Delights

**Forever and a Day**

_Yellow Bikinis and Culinary Delights  
_

It's summer, and Tonks is pregnant, and she hates it. It's not the fact that she's pregnant so much, more that she's hot and sticky and she really does not like summer and she doesn't exactly know how to tell Remus that she's pregnant.

She collapses on a deck chair behind their flat in what little sunshine there is, and shakes her head at the fact that there's no way she's going to be able to hide this – she should know; when she was thirteen she tried to disguise her breasts and all they did was mutilate into something so hideous that she'd bashed her head against a wall for a week, and then lamented that too when she'd had to study extra hard in Potions to scrape a pass.

Tonks doesn't think that Remus will hate her… but does it have to be _now? _She cannot even imagine bringing up a kitten in this tumultuous world – not least because of the fact that Remus is allergic to cat hair – let alone a _child. _The thought is simply ludicrous, like the answers to some of those cryptic crosswords that Remus finds so appealing but Tonks refers to as "like the sort of toilet paper Professor Binns would use, you know."

The sun hits her stomach, and she can almost feel it burning her skin; she quickly summons a towel from the bathroom cupboard where she'd stashed those pregnancy tests, and wraps it across her skin for protection, something that she and Remus had _obviously_ forgotten to use. As she lies there, she can almost feel the baby kicking, and then she laughs at the stupidity of it all: she's three weeks, not three months, and her bump hasn't even began to show.

"Dora? You out here?"

Remus wanders over to her, a scarf around his shoulders despite the warm weather – it was the full moon last night and he hates to scare her with the scars that run ragged across his neck and the deep cuts where he… he… "I was thinking," he says, trying to brush the sun from his eyes with a hand that bore resemblance to something out of one of those horror movies her father had loved once (though what the attraction in Nightmare on Elm Street was, she'd never understand), "maybe we can go out for dinner tonight? Seeing as I abandoned you last night and all?"

For a second, Tonks thinks back to her honeymoon, when all she wanted was to bear something that she and Remus made, but then she looks into his face, and realizes that wishes and dreams don't always work in reality.

"P'haps tomorrow night?" she asks, reaching up a

nd pulling his face to her lips – he's unshaven and it's rough against her lips, like sandpaper – "I'm not feeling in the mood for dinner right now?" It's not that she doesn't want to go out for dinner, but dinner involves both them drinking wine to overcome the nervousness caused by everyone staring at them (Tonks wonders how people can be so judgmental – there's _twelve _years between them, not _fifty – _and then she realises that she was born into a marriage scorned by prejudice and maybe it's in her blood) and then the wine leads to drunkenness and decisions they don't consciously make and that's not what she wants right now.

"You know, we can just stay home if that's what you want. What do you say to me cooking you a meal?" Tonks loves a lot of things about Remus, but his cooking isn't one of them; he's the sort to burn water and as for toast, well… She nods anyway, and asks, "Can we eat outside?"

If the heat out here is crippling her more than morning sickness ever will, she can't even stand the _thought _of the inside of their stuffy flat.

"Of course," he says, smiling gently at her, and then she wonders how she can be worrying so much about telling him that she's pregnant with his child.

"I will put on something decent," she says, looking down at her bright yellow bikini with a laugh. I hate to think of the agony if I spill spaghetti sauce on my stomach… which, knowing me, I inevitably will."

"Is this like the inevitable fate that made you trip over that bloody umbrella stand every time you passed it."

"Something like that."

For a moment or two, they're both trapped in memories of their own beginnings – although Tonks _really _doesn't want to remember the Great Mistletoe Incident of Summer 1995 – and then she says, "Remus, I have something to tell you."

'It's not about how sexy you look in a bikini, is it? Because I already know that."

She loves the fact that he can say that now, that they're not reserved around each other – and not just because not being able to change her hair pink was _bloody annoying _(brown made her look too much like her dear aunt). Once, they had to hide their feelings behind masks to attend funerals and to weep, and now, they're free to just be themselves, with nothing but the future they crave between them.

Tonks giggles like an insane school girl as he lays a smattering of kisses along her stomach. It tickles, and her stomach lurches with realisation: he's kissing her baby. _Their _baby.

"I'm not going to be sexy in a bikini for much longer." Honestly, she doesn't think she's _ever_ been sexy in anything, but Remus makes her feel like she is, and she loves him for that.

"Why not?" It's obvious from the confusion on his face that Remus doesn't understand – all those crosswords puzzles and the wasted time with your head in a thesaurus aren't useful _now, _she laughs to herself in this hazy state where she can't tell what's up or down.

"I'm… Remus… I… I'm pregnant."

"You're… pregnant?"

It was times like this that she was thankful she's married Remus and not her cousin – not that incest was appealing at any rate, and there were no words that could even do justice to the disgusting habits of her forbearers – because she much preferred him throwing words to heavy objects.

"Yeah," she mumbled. "I am." Once, she would have made a rude joke that made her mother curdle with despair at her daughter's language, but now, she just waits for a reaction. Motherhood is supposed to be mellowing, and obviously that's already happening to her.

"You're… you're kidding me. Right?"

"I'm not Sirius or James, Remus. Although -" she gave him a wink that seemed so entirely out of place in this summery garden full of confusion "- I can easily change into them if that's what you want."

"That's… wonderful," Remus replied, and while she knew he was referring to their child, their son or their daughter, she couldn't help but laugh at the idea that he might have been referring to her previous comment. "Is _that _why you didn't want to go out to dinner?"

"No, it's more the what happens _after _dinner part that I wasn't looking forward to."

Remus lays himself gently down beside her, curled around her body like a cat on a bed, and strokes her bare stomach.

"Yellow will still be your best colour, even when you're nearly due," he whispers, and Tonks can't help but smile at that. For the girl with a million face, any compliment is appreciated – you can't be pretty when, for you, the definition changes from one moment to the next. "But anyway, maybe we could skip on the… dessert… and I'll just bring your meal out here instead."

When it arrives, forty-five minutes and two smoke alarms later (damn those Muggles and their inability to make technology that's actually easy to turn off) Remus presents it to her with a flourish, a culinary delight of burnt mince and what _looks _like cauliflower but tastes like glue.

He watches her face curiously, deep and fathomless eyes fluttering between her lips and her stomach, as though she's something Remus wants to eat – which, she reflects with something like sadistic irony, once a month, he probably does. He's pulled the scarf off now, and Tonks likes him for it. Vaguely, she wonders why he's not up in arms about this whole pregnancy thing, because _werewolf _and_ possibly genetic _and _scars _are not usually words that go with _baby, _but then he wraps her up his arms yet again, and she forgets all about it.

They're both sweaty and hot and sticky, even though the sun's long since disappeared to haunt Australia or Antarctica, and she can feel his body heat as he leans against her. It reminds her of their past again, of last summer when they sat under beech trees after the aftermath of Sirius' death and watched the lake, musing on possible names for the Giant Squid – "Glennis!" "Paul!" "Glennis!" "Paul!" – and debating whether she looked better with a pig snout or duck beak. Their bodies had collided then too, with sweat and lust and tangled hair, and they'd looked at each other with fire in their eyes and realised, for the first time, truly what the future could hold.

Now, their bodies have collided to make this baby – Tonks hopes it's a girl, because if it's a boy it'll be a noble prat like Harry and like Remus, and she feels sorry for the Ginny of the future if she produces a boy – and she's hoping it'll be worth it.

Remus gives her stomach one final kiss before she shivers and he beckons her back inside. The smile he gives her is so big that it almost kills her when she wakes up the following morning alone.

* * *

**So I've just realised there's a screw up with canon here, but I'm choosing to ignore it. For it to work with the Deathly Hallows timeline, Remus and Tonks should have been married in summer - although this chapter would have occured in late July/early August no matter when their wedding was - but I've decided to stick with this, as I actually prefer my way. This is also in direct contrast to the events I wrote in Snapshots of Paradise (shameless pimping, lol ;), but I'm having fun putting a different perspective on the events I've already written.**

**I'd love to know what you think, and if you have time, I'd love you to do me a massive favour and check out the Character Sketches Awards. We're looking for the best character sketches in several era and genre based categories, and any nominations or help are very much appreciated. They can be found under the Character Sketches link on my profile.**

_Cuba...x_


	3. Beatles Songs & a Flurry of Leaves

**Forever and a Day**

_Beatles Songs and a Flurry of Leaves  
_

The whole thing reminds Tonks of the chorus of her least favourite Weird Sisters' song. _Love isn't easy, love isn't right, love's gonna keep you up all night, _they warble, and Tonks hums along out of tune. She knows all the words – she couldn't call herself a fan if she didn't – but she hates the slow melody and the horrible purposefulness of the depression. People like herself shouldn't be depressed, and if they are, it should be a hurried spiral into madness, not a set of over-emphasised lyrics.

Then again, Tonks doesn't know who she is now – she's gone from pink-haired, sarcastic, skinny and married, to brown-haired, over-emotional and pregnant, not to mention god-knows what else. It's autumn, her favourite season (although it will take a lot to top last spring), and she's trapped in doors, with Muggle soap operas and her fathers' complete Dr Who collection to keep her company. She doesn't mind as much as she tells her mother she does, because you know, the Doctor's pretty hot, and so is that guy from the Baywatch re-runs they constantly have on.

"Dora?"

Andromeda has popped in under the pretense of "being in the neighbourhood" – Tonks is starting to think that she's sleeping on a nearby park bench or something – and she's bustling around the kitchen making tea.

"_Yes,_ Mum."

"Have you tried to find out where… where he is?"

"_No, _Mum."

They go through the rhythms, and as much as Tonks' behaviour pisses her mother off, she wouldn't have it any other way. This is what they've always been – a mother and daughter not quite duo that think playful teasing and an inability to express feeling equates to love. Sometimes, Tonks laughs at the irony. She fell for Remus because he was polite, there was no such thing as casual, no such thing as forgetting dates or missing dinner or stealing the remote control, and she lost him when he turned into that irrational sort. There's was the sort of romance she'd always thought could last forever and a day, and now… she's not so sure.

"Look Mum," Tonks says finally, from her position on the couch, which had been completely redecorated with a chocolate wrapper and coffee stain layer of fabric. "If Remus wants to come back, he will. If not… maybe the baby's better off without him." Of course, she doesn't believe that, not one bit, but… maybe if she convinces everyone else, she'll convince herself.

Survival is not just a skill the Order hands out willy-nilly, but after the last few years, she's gaining it.

It lasts for weeks, an endless train of morning sickness and despair amongst the autumn leaves, and then… he comes back.

There's none of the fanfare Tonks has been seeing in all the movies she's watched recently; like it or not, this is _not _a fairytale. This is a war-torn romance, this is a pregnancy, he is ever –

everything she's ever wanted, if she's honest with herself.

She supposes that's why he slips back into her life as though he's never been gone. She wakes up one morning and he's at the kitchen table, coffee pot and tattered newspaper in hand, and his greeting – "Tonks!" – makes her wonder if she's dreaming.

"Remus," she says curtly, "Remus." Tonks wants to forgive him, because she's melting away in his unshaven face and the ineloquence only she and Sirius ever knew he possessed, but… she's a mother now, a mother, and a mother must always make the best choices for her children (crap, it feels weird even thinking about that).

"Look Tonks, I-I…I…" He stops short, because not even his love of literature or his subsequent love of words can save him now. "I'm so -"

"Tonks, you home?"

Andromeda's voice drifts into the hallway, and Tonks takes one look at Remus, places a hand on her stomach and nods quickly at him. "We're going for a walk." They Apparate to a nearby park, their feet sinking into a luscious spread of bright orange leaves and their eyes sinking into anything but each other.

"What was that for?" is the first question Remus asks. "Why'd we run away?"

"Mum's obsessed with me finding you," Tonks admits, cursing that blushing is one trademark shape-shifting can't control. "I don't know if she wants to hug you and make you tea or blast your balls off for making her think about the idea of a bastard for a grandchild, but neither option is all that desirable."

"You're right," he laughs. His eyes are flickering between her stomach and the ground, and Tonks is reminded of yet another set of songs, though these ones, Remus might appreciate. The Beatles sung about love lost and love found, and while Tonks knows nobody called Sgt. Pepper and her name sounds nothing like Lucy (though she could pull off a good impression of Lily Evans, given a photo), she starts to hum under her breath: _of all the love I have won or have lost, there is one love I should never have crossed._

Remus pales at the words and what they could mean, but soon he finds himself humming along, out of tune and lacking enthusiasm. They sing for a while, this brown haired pregnant lady and her old graying husband in a London park warbling among the pigeons, and then Tonks turns to Remus with a pointed look.

"I should hate you right now."

"I know."  
"And yet… I don't."

She's not expecting that they'll fall into a contented rhythm anytime soon, because they're Remus and Tonks, and their dances have always been more about stumbling than grace, so it surprises her when Remus says, "I wouldn't blame you if you did hate me."

It's so typically him, nervous and unsure – she remembers all those nights in Grimmauld Place when he choked on his coffee and mumbled "I'll never understand you Tonks, never" – and she thinks it's nice to see that some things haven't changed.

"I can't hate you, Remus." Tonks has tried many a time, she's cursed him and sworn about him and threatened to blow him, but it was all just a ruse for everyone else's sakes. For a moment she's reminded of Molly and her plan to set her up with Bill – gag, gag, gag, although Charlie was pretty cute – and the way that Tonks made up excuses and told tales to get out of it. Back then, love had been a fickle thing she'd thought she would never find, now…

"I'm pretty pissed about what you did, but we're having a baby, and I don't want him to grow up learning about hate. He's Andromeda's grandson, not Bellatrix's."

Remus lets out a chuckle, his feet crunching against the autumn leaves as he took a step backwards. "What makes you so sure the baby's a he?" he quips, and in that second, Tonks knows it will be all right. They don't need a war of emotions and words to remind them of what really matters.

"It's my intuition."

"Well, let's hope your intuition is better than our ability to use protection." Remus blanches the moment the words have left his mouth; his sense of humour really is not appropriate right now. Tonks takes one look at the panic etched across his face, and lets out a chuckle.

"Don't worry, Remus. I'm just glad you're laughing again." Tonks stoops over, ignoring the searing pain in her back – she really doesn't feel like dwelling on the fact that she constantly forgot to take those horse pills they all called vitamins – and picks up a handful of deep brown leaves. They unfurl in her fingers, stark against her pale skin – she hasn't been outside in a month, maybe two – and she throws them at Remus.

"Stop that! We've only just gotten back on speaking terms."  
"Talk about _this!" _She tosses another handful of leaves, and soon they're spinning around the park, trapped in a flurry of brown and gold. They fall over each other laughing, unable to breathe. Strangers stare at them, hurrying along with their woolen coats and their fake smiles, and Remus and Tonks laugh and laugh, collapsing against the trunk of a tree and giggling into the night.

* * *

**Sorry for the disgusting lack of updates: this chapter just would not come to me, so I procrastinated in every way possible. :) Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and the last chapter should be here soon.**

**Autumn Prompts: **leaves, tree, fight, breathe, song, brown


	4. Jumping in Puddles & JP for LE

Tonks quite likes winter, although she's never really understood why. It's disgusting; she spends three months of the year wrapped in woolen clothing that hides her colourful band t-shirts and stays tucked up in bed with a book.

She supposes what makes it appeal to her is the intimacy of it all, that curling up with your lover takes on a new meaning in the search for heat, that coffee does so more than just fulfill a caffeine addiction for a few hours.

At seven months pregnant, it's hard to enjoy anything, but at least she has an excuse to stay in bed. Remus slides in beside her, tickling her stomach and whispering to the baby over and over again. Tonks doesn't always hear what he says, but she picks out keywords like 'klutz' and 'fiesty' and decides that she doesn't really want to know.

She's never been the calmest of people, but all pregnancy has done is make her more volatile. Remus is on edge too, and one day she catches him standing shirtless with shaving cream smeared across her face – the corners of her mouth twitch as she avoids making all the jokes his best friends once laughed at for hours and she remembers the time Sirius bought his friend a home-waxing kit (although a five year old Tonks hadn't _really_ understood the joke at the time) – shivering in the cold and staring into space.

"Remus?" she asks gently, applying some of that tact that Flitwick had always said she had and never employed. "Remus? _Remus?" _

"Yes, Tonks?" he replies with a sigh, but there's this tiny hint of a smile that tugs at the corners of his lips, and she feels like she's drowning all over again.

"Are you -" Suddenly, questions about his mental welfare seem so useless. Of course he's not okay. There's a war and they're dying left, right and centre and _bloody hell that honeymoon seems like a long time ago. _"We're leaving the house," she says, throwing her body and her lips – each as swollen as the other – against him before he has time to react. They've always danced around, both literally and figuratively, but now Remus and Tonks are learning that it takes two to tango.

"But Tonks, it's freezing out there. You'll freeze… it's not good for your health."

"And worrying isn't good for your mind or the wrinkles on your face, but I don't chastise you, do I?"

Remus chuckles along with her, and then his face hardens as he thinks of a sizable comeback. She drags him out the door before he can react, her sizable stomach leading the way. Tonks has embraced pregnancy like life: the more you get used to it, the more you want it.

"Come on Remus," she shouted, breaking into a lumbering skip that reminded Remus of an animal taking its first steps. The sunlight danced on her face, stained with murky water from the puddles she'd been jumping in. Her fingers fluttered in the cold breeze as she dragged Remus towards her, immersing his feet in the icy water.

"Bloody hell, Tonks," he sighed, in an attempt to act annoyed at her. Their acting never lasted long; this war had eaten away at them so much that whatever skill they had left was used solely to stay alive. "I know where we can go."

"Where?" Her face lit up, and for a moment Remus could remember the adventurous young warrior she'd once been.

He resists the urge to drag her down the street the way he'd once dragged her into his arms (and his bed), glancing warily at her pregnant stomach. They talk all the way to his secret location – and Remus Lupin has never been able to keep a secret before, because they always tug at the corners of his mouth and make him smile uncontrollably – discussing life and art and literature like they did in the good old days of their honeymoon (he feels old saying that).

"_You _masterminded a plot to turn the Quidditch pitch into a swamp?" Tonks asks in disbelief. Her laughter leaves her winded, and he frets about her every step – the baby, the baby, the _baby – _while she slaps him away.

"Well, it was Sirius' idea. He thought that James was spending too much time at Quidditch practice and not enough with his friends. I just happened to be the only one who knew how the spell worked."

They chat about other things too, like favourite Hogwarts portraits and best meals and how, if they ever survive this war they'll take their child to Egypt. Tonks decides that Bill will be a corrupting influence and Remus laughs and says "can't be any worse than the poor kid's mother," to which Tonks just winks and replies, "you never know."

They trade jokes like sandwiches and Chocolate Frog cards, laughing their way to Remus' secret place.

"It… it's beautiful," Tonks says finally, one hand on her stomach and the other on her heart (and really now, they're the same thing). "Where are we?" It's a part of London she's never seen, away from the dirt and the grime and the snide stares of the city people. Out here, she might possibly believe that Remus and her are the stuff of legend, the husband and wife of romance novels and famous literature that they've never been able to be.

Tonks has always hated cliché, but she'll do anything in the name of love.

They sit in the snow amid Remus' protests that it's not good for the baby – it's not good for the baby but it's refreshing to her – the cold white slush sticking to their legs and the palms of their hands. Tonks can feel water seeping into the bottom of her jeans, and it reminds her that, like life, the water cycle regenerates itself again and again.

She can do the same with her faces, but since Remus, she's re-invented herself less and less.

"We used to come here every summer holidays." Even without names, Tonks has no doubt as to who he means. "Of course, it's a bit different now, but…"

"Somehow, it's still the same?"

"Well, I'd much rather kiss you than James," Remus says with a laugh, short and slightly stilted, as though even this is an insult to the dead. "But you're right, it does mean a lot to me."

Tonks wraps her coat around herself, shivering in the wind. She's soaked through to the bone now and _remember Tonks, you're pregnant, and it ain't that easy anymore. _She still suffers morning sickness and cravings like everybody else, but this baby has become so much a part of her that sometimes, she doesn't even notice it's there.

As they leave, Tonks can see how this park could be pretty, if the flowers were blooming and the grass was showing through the thick coat of snow it wore. It reminds her of one of those gardens from the Bible – she studied it in fifth year Muggle studies – a little piece of paradise in all the horror of the city and the war.

As she ducks under a snow laden branch, something catches her eye.

"Remus, look at this."

Just under the lower most branch, someone's engraved the tree with crude scratches, four little slogans that encompass an age.

_Dial 1800-SIRIUS on your fellytone. Once you go Black, you never go back._

_JP for LE _

_All the world's a stage,  
And all the men and women merely players;  
They have their exits and their entrances,  
And one man in his time plays many parts,  
His acts being seven ages._

_Peter was here! 16/6/1976_

"I remember that," Remus says quietly. "I was so against it, at first. By then, James had already started carving Lily's initials, and it was too late. Plus I couldn't resist the urge to quote Shakespeare." He shrugs off his long past misdemeanors with a sigh, and Tonks can see his shoulders shaking as the words bore themselves into his mind. "Plus, Sirius' quote _still _makes me laugh. He always was the arrogant one."

He pauses, wrapping an arm around Tonks' soaking wet shoulders.

"I loved them. Almost as much as I loved you."

"I know."

And with that, there's nothing else to say. Words can only express so much.

They leave the park, and trudge along the streets to a café; the snow sinks into their boots too and Tonks can barely walk, her feet are so numb. Remus orders coffee, steaming hot and they sit in a corner booth, away from the prying eyes of customers that think a thirteen-year age difference is so wrong.

"Remus," Tonks says quietly. "Why… why were you so upset this morning? I… I thought you were about to lift the knife to your throat or something."

"This isn't Sweeney Todd, Tonks. Although, that was possibly the best book Sirius ever recommended to me. Much better than the Karma Sutra, at any rate."

"Sirius brought _you _the Karma Sutra."

"Yet another birthday present… like the waxing kit you reminded me of, that I'd rather been hoping to forget."

Tonks rolls her eyes – Remus had loved his friends' practical jokes, no matter how much he protests otherwise. The truth is in the sparkle of his eyes and the way the corners of his mouth turn upward.

He seems to enjoy changing the subject too, she realises.

"Look, Remus," Tonks says. "I'm not going to make a big deal of it if you're scared or you're worried, but I want to know, so I can help you."

"It's nothing." His smile is so wide, she can almost believe it, but she knows him too well.

"Come on," she says gently. "Let's go home."

Back home there's a couch and a toilet – that's the thing she hates most about this baby right now, although she's sure she's in for a lot worse in a few months – and she can rest her feet. Remus sees her pain as she grits her teeth and mutters, "We shouldn't have left the house, I knew."

"I'm fine, Remus!"

Neither of them are telling the complete truth, but they're happy enough, and for now, that's all that matters. They've got forever and a day to worry about the little things.

* * *

**Argh, I so wanted to give these two a happy ending and then there I go with my angst addiction again. :) Maybe I should just book myself in the mental institution already? Anyway, this is finished, and I've had a lot of fun writing it. I just want to say a massive thankyou to anyone and everyone who's left a review, and to Megsy42, for designing this challenge.  
**


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